The Lady of the Rock
by Lady of Lannister
Summary: Jaime Lannister and Sansa Stark are forced to marry, making Sansa the future Lady of Casterly Rock.
1. Chapter 1

Jaime

As the Red Keep cane into view, Jaime's heart began to pound. _So close,_ he thought, his mind full of Cercei as it had been since the night he had escaped Riverrun with the aid of the men he assumed had been sent by his brother. Riding furiously through the woods on his way back to her, he filled his thoughts with his twin, his soulmate, but now with their reunion so close at hand he was frightened. _ Will she love me now that I am a cripple? _When he left the dugeons at Riverrun, he never would have questioned his sister's love, but not that Lord Bolton's man was calling up to the battlements to have the guards open the gate, doubt plagued him.

Once inside, he saw his horse stabled, and his escort shown to suitable chambers before setting off for the Queen's apartments. His feet followed the familiar path to the royal chambers and when he arrived, he was irritated to see that the Kinsguard who stood vigil at the door was not a man he recognized.

"Who are you, and what's your business with the Queen?" The new white cloak spat as he moved to block the door.

"Surely you recognize your own sworn brother, ser?" Jaime retorted coldly.

Confusion twisted the knight's features, "brother…" he murmured, before realization dawned across his face. "Ser _Jaime?_"

"One in the same, ser, now step aside. I mean to have words with my sweet sister."

"Of course, Lord Commander."

Jaime moved past him without another word, single minded in his pursuit of the Queen. He pushed the door open with his shoulder and strode into the solar to find his sister giggling on one end of a sofa while a man admired her from the other. He studied the man's face for a moment, jealousy rising is his chest, before realizing with a jolt that he shared the same crooked nose and lank black hair of the knight guarding the door. He cleared his throat to announce his presence.

His sister's reaction left much to be desired. He had known she wouldn't cry nor jump in his arms, but he had hoped for more than the stiff hug she gave him. When they parted, her eyes went immediately to his stump.

"So, it's true." It had not been a question, but he nodded nonetheless.

"An outrage!" She fumed, green eyes shining bright with her rage, "an insult against House Lannister that will not be tolerated!"

He turned from her then to face the man who had been so engrossed with his sister, and for the first time noticed the attractive, dark haired woman who was also in the room, "Could I have a private moment with my sister?" The woman stood and said a few quiet words to his sister before accepting the man's arm and departing, leaving him alone in the small room with his twin.

"Father was furious when he received word from Roose Bolton about your…_incident_," Cercei continued, ignoring the longing in his eyes, "the goat will pay dearly for…._oh!"_ She squealed as Jaime wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Gods, Cercei…is this all you have to say to me?"

"Have you spoken to father yet?" She asked nonchalantly, pushing him away from her firmly.

"No. I came to you first," he replied, reaching for her again.

She backed away from his attempt to hold her and smiled a cruel, icy smile. "Go to him, brother. He has plans for you."


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa

Her fingers trailed gingerly over the delicate fabric of one of her new gowns. It was a confection of summer silk done in Tully blue and red, but even the familiar colors of her mother's house did little to still the disquiet in Sansa's heart. A fortnight past Queen Cercei had come to her chambers to announce that she would have a new wardrobe made, one suitable for a young lady. A few short moons ago Sansa would have been delighted, but now she only felt suspicious and frightened. The Queen had hardly even looked at her since Joffrey had set her aside for Lady Margaery, yet suddenly she had offered her a new wardrobe. _What could she want from me now?_

A few of her new gowns were made in Tully colors, and a few were Stark white and grey, but most were gold and crimson; Lannister colors. _They can dress me like a lion, but I'll never be one. I'm a Stark. A wolf._ Stiffly, she closed the door to her wardrobe and crawled back into bed. Most of her time lately had been spent curled under her blankets, hiding from the world. Nobody seemed to care whether or not she showed her face at court since her engagement had ended, so she had taken to only leaving her chambers to visit the godswood or the sept. She prayed for her mother and Robb, she prayed that Arya was safe somewhere far away, she prayed for all the family she had lost, she even prayed for Jon. Her most fervent prayers, however, had been that Joffrey's wedding to Margaery would go smoothly. She still feared that she could be forced into being Joff's bride, and the Queen's recent attention had only served to frighten Sansa more.

A sudden knock at the door startled her out of her forlorn reverie. She leapt out of bed as the Queen glided through the door, dressed in a low cut hunter green gown, the bodice of which was intricately decorated with pearls. Sansa sank into a low curtsy, and her heart followed suit.

"Your Grace," she muttered, suddenly aware of how bedraggled she must appear.

"I have wonderful news, little dove," the queen said with a radiant smile that never reached her eyes, "in a fortnight you are to be wed."


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry it took so long to get this third chapter up, but I've been busy lately and hadn't had much time to write. If you're enjoying the story so far(or not), please feel free to review and let me know why…this is my first attempt at fanfic, and I'm just dying to know what you all think! Thanks for reading and I'll try not to let chapter 4 take so long! :) **

Tyrion

Tyrion had to hand it to his father; he was truly the only man in the Seven Kingdoms who could tame his two eldest children, much to the dismay of Cercei's late husband. Truly, even with Tywin's reproachful gaze on her, the Queen's calm demeanor came as a shock. When his father had confided his plan to marry Jaime to Sansa Stark, Tyrion had cringed imagining Cercei's reaction, but there she sat, acting as though she hadn't a care in the world. He shifted his gaze to his older brother, who appeared as though he might become violently ill any moment.

"She is only a child," Jaime all but whispered before finding his voice and continuing, "and I am Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."

"She has flowered." Cercei responded coldly, never even bothering to glance in her twin's direction, "and you are no longer fit to serve in the Kingsguard. Or had you forgotten?"

The hurt in Jaime's eyes made Tyrion picture his sister's lovely face, turning black as he choked the life from her. As much as the thought pleased him, he thought it best to go with his second impulse.

"Sansa is a lovely young woman now, Jaime. Sweet and gentle…a true lady." The words rang hollow even in his own ears, and he doubted his attempt to console his brother had much effect.

When Lord Tywin rose to his feet, all three of his children fell silent and turned their attention to their father. The Lord of the Rock, however, only had eyes for his eldest son and heir.

"Whether you marry the Stark girl or not, you _will_ be dismissed from the Kingsguard." Tywin informed his son curtly, "what you do after is your choice completely; Casterly Rock and Sansa, or nothing."

With the ultimatum hanging in the air, Tywin waved his hand dismissively, letting his children know he had no further need of them, and sank back into his chair, turning his attention to the pile of papers on his desk.

Tyrion leapt down from his seat and made his way toward the door, biting his tongue all the way. It wasn't until he reached the end of the corridor that Jaime suddenly appeared at his side.

"What would you do in my place, brother?" He asked, sounding desperate.

"Marry the girl and rule the Rock," Tyrion replied with a shrug, "what other choice have you got?"

"None," his brother answered with a bitter laugh, "but then when have I _ever_ had a choice?"


End file.
